


noel miller hates clubs

by stelesandwands



Category: Tiny Meat Gang (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Clubbing, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelesandwands/pseuds/stelesandwands
Summary: You go clubbing and meet a certain light-eyed man, he takes you home to have his way with you.
Relationships: Noel Miller/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27





	noel miller hates clubs

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time writing y/n, hope you enjoy lol
> 
> also : don't do what they do, please practice safe sex

The music is pulsing through the doors, tempting you before you even enter the nightclub. Your friends, Jia and Nina, are wrestling with their handbags and outfits. You take a quick glance at your short hemline, pull it down, then pull up your sliding neckline. This exercise has been repeating itself all night. You remind yourself that the dress isn’t going to leave you with indecent exposure and that it’ll keep you cool once you’re inside, while you dance off all the gin.

You’re barely in line five minutes when a crowd of guys jostles into the VIP line, whooping and yelling. They’re all in a good mood, they’re all about your age, and best of all, they’re not all bad. One of them is in all black, a light motorcycle jacket on. You can’t see much of him, but he stands out from his posture, looking down and laughing, letting his friend shake his shoulders, nodding his head. The bouncer steps aside to let them in and he runs inside with the rest of them at full speed, trying to leapfrog over a smaller guy.

You turn around, to see Jia and Nina watching them too, then all laugh.

“Tonight’s the fucking night.”  
“I need to get laid _right_.”

“Listen ladies… the night is young.” You throw your hands up and shrug, “Who _knows_ what could happen.” The three of you are still giggling when you hand over your IDs to the bouncer. You all give him a little smile- his face doesn’t move but he does hold eye contact a touch longer than strictly necessary.

The club is crawling with guys. The few women present are huddled in protective clumps, because the song is bad, too. It’s dark, it’s hot, none of it matters. The three of you are beelining for the bar, trying to maintain the buzz you turned on at Nina’s apartment.

“Four gin and tonics and two vodkas with cranberry,” you manage to yell to the bartender. He nods, the drinks spit out onto the bar, and you hand over your credit card, trying not to think about the bill.

The drinks are making their fiery, cold way down your throat, the tang of cranberry is fresh in your mouth, and Jia is pulling you out into the centre of the club, where lights keep shifting and making people glow. You follow her, giving the area a scan and not finding anyone to your liking. The current song is a little better, but still no one is dancing and your group is still a good third of the presence.

“Spread out!” Nina shouts over the music. You back up and throw yourselves at it. A good half of the moves aren’t moves at all, just a parody of straight men. You’re all pretending you’re ready to bust up right there on the dancefloor. Jia laughs and makes kiss faces, biting her lip, spanking an invisible ass. You squeeze back together, moving closely as a unit. Then, the song changes. It’s shit again. You stop dancing and gesture towards the bathrooms, leaving your friends to continue the lewd pantomime.

That’s when you see him again, side-on, the sheen of his jacket catching your eye. He has a drink in hand, throat and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. The same guys surround the table he’s at, behaving decently well given the circumstance, dancing, drinking some of the big bottles. The stranger glances up, towards you, and you lock eyes. He squints a little, trying to peer through the confusing lighting, but that just emphasises his strong features. You look away, walking closer and closer to the table to get to the bathroom. You look up at him and catch him looking at you, again, that brief pause. You give him a tiny smirk as you pass within arm’s distance from his table, before turning into the hall.

The club is expensive and the bathrooms have that semi-sexy feeling, where you’re tempted to imagine yourself slammed against one of the full-length mirrors, your mouth on someone’s neck, their fingers curled into your hair, both eager and drunk. Anyways, that’s the temptation. Your makeup looks immaculate, your hair is parted just right, and really, you look fresh. With more confidence, you leave the bathroom, minding the swing of your hips as you brush past the table, not checking to see if he’s looking at you. You know he is.

Jia and Nina redirect their dancing so you’re a touch closer to the table and you look up. He’s facing you, his drink is set down now, and he’s dancing. You can see the plush lips that accompany the jawline you admired earlier and the sure way he moves. His hips shift side to side and he’s doing, but not fully committing to some complicated footwork, relaxed, but not missing a beat.

The three of you move to the bar, ready to scam dudes for drinks, when someone wanders up to you, leaning onto the bar. Turning to face him, you smile.

“Hi.” He shifts, tilting in toward you.

“Hey,” he pauses, smirks, then leans in closer, lips only a precious few centimetres from your ear, his dark hair softly touching yours. “I’m Noel.”

“Y/N.” You reply. He smiles a little more warmly and gestures to Nina and Jia who are behind you, not so subtly watching this happen.

“We have a table and too much alcohol. Do you want to join us?” You nod, grinning back at your friends, and he leads you three over.

A few glasses of champagne later, you’re dancing loosely to a reggaeton beat. Noel is next to you, jacket off, dancing less and less as time goes on, getting less and less coy about watching you move. You’re getting bolder too. Taking his glass, you smile as you finish the last sip. Debating what to do next, you cock your head to the side, watching him watch you, focused, but still with a little smile. You take a step closer and hand him back his glass, eyes flickering from his, to his mouth, which is parted, just a little. The shadows of the club erase everyone else, it feels like just you two, you somehow hear him breathing, see his obscured eyes darting to your mouth. He takes his glass back and you let your hand rest on his. You look at where you’re touching and twitch your fingers to the inside of his wrist, drag it up to his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin, pull slightly, and finally, you’re kissing.

His lips are soft and firm, you can feel the prick of stubble at your fingertips. You pull away for a second to open your eyes and look at him. His eyes are hungry and you’re just noticing how light they are, when he presses toward you again. He has a hand around the back of your neck, stroking and pulling on your hair, the other at your waist, his thumb just under your ribs, the skin sensitive even under your dress. He scratches your neck lightly and takes advantage of your small gasp to lick into your mouth. Without invading or forcing his way in, his tongue swipes along yours, and you feel his breath hitch when you suck on it, your fingers digging into his chest and shoulders.

His tongue runs inside your teeth, letting you scrape it lightly while you suck, your teeth dig into his bottom lip. His hand has moved to the side of your neck, thumb moving over your pulse, pushing, then letting go, then pushing again, blunt nails hard at your hairline. He pulls your head to the side, pushes away your hair, and kisses the soft skin right under your jaw, an exhale fanning out on the now damp skin, making you shiver. His tongue licks at the base of your neck, before sucking at it, lips moving gently while his teeth and tongue tear at you. The shiver happens again, your hand involuntarily pulling on his short hair. You reseal your mouths, feeling more than hearing his groan when you push back into the hand now at the edge of your bra, one finger underneath the strap of your dress. You back away again, forcing yourself to separate your chest from his, still nose to nose.

Your hand is bunching up his shirt, pulling him toward you, while the other is pushed into the middle of his strong chest, keeping him at bay. His heartbeat is fast, both of you are breathing hard, and the look he’s giving you isn’t helping matters.

“Do you want to go to mine.” It’s not phrased as a question. Nothing about it needs an answer, but you still find yourself nodding insistently, turning your head away to find Jia and Nina, realising you have no idea how long you’ve been making out with him. You let go of him and half-stumble to them and find enough voice to tell them you’re leaving.

The trip to his is a blur of making out in the empty street, him shoving you into a pillar, your nails savaging his head and back, and a very tense backseat ride in the uber, with your hand creeping up his leg to the hard outline of his dick. You definitely remember him whispering, “I can’t wait to see you cum.”

Now you’re sliding past him into his apartment and pushing him to the back of the door, so you both fall into each other, the door shutting with a bang.

“Yeah, fuck the neighbours,” he says, before closing the space between you again. He brings his hands down to your ass, palming and kneading it, using it to grind your hips together. You can feel yourself getting your skin getting tighter and hotter, like pressure is already building in you. His belt is so tight over his dick, you’re sure it must be painful. One of your hands leaves where it was scraping the sensitive shell of his ear, smoothes over his shirt, and rests on his jeans’ waistband. You both pant for air, looking down where he unbuckles his belt. Your fingers inch under his shirt. You slip them into his waistband and he grunts into your neck as you wrap your hand around the head. There’s nearly no room to move and, impatient, you drop to your knees, concentrated on undoing his zipper and pants.

You push his black jeans down and stop, eyes darting up to check if you can continue. He nods, just barely, his hand cupping his balls through the thin, dark grey fabric. You replace it with yours and lean in to kiss the skin being revealed as you peel off his boxer briefs. The sparse trail of hair on his stomach leads to a trimmed, dark patch around his cock. It’s the centre of your attention, your hand instinctively gripping a surprising length and good girth, and an uncircumcised mushroom tip. You feel yourself clench at the prospect of having him inside you.

“Noel.” You grin when you look up at him, so frustrated. His hands are on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the nape of your neck, and he’s breathing hard, staring back at you, until you turn your head to spit and lick the base of his shaft. Your hands slick him up, and you take one last deep breath before sucking him in.

The head almost pops into your mouth, and your lips work around it to get your tongue under his foreskin, the bitter, heady flavour teasing you for what’s coming. Your body heats up as you bob up and down, curling your tongue as you come up, and flattening it as you go back down. You keep stopping at the top to tease the opening with the tip of your tongue, your hands gripping his length. You move one of his hands to the back of your head, firmly holding it there until he catches on. You glide forward, until he’s in your throat for the first time. He lets out a harsh sound, one hand in your hair and the other’s thumb stroking over the side of your face. You struggle to take a breath and open your throat wider, until your lips are touching his abdomen. He makes another sound and holds on to your head and slowly rolls his hips. You’re struggling not to gag.

“Fuck.” He lets out, he pulls out a little, letting you breathe, before rolling again. You moan and his fingers twist in your hair- you let out a second, higher one. You’re getting wet, you know it. You squeeze your legs together, powerless to get some relief, to no avail. You pull away, his hand still in your hair, and give his dick a sloppy kiss, before staggering to stand, a little unsteady on your feet. He smiles at you and pulls your head towards his, switching positions so now your back is against the door. He pulls up your dress, as his tongue presses into your mouth, then pins your hips with his, one hand on your waist as the other trails over your thigh, nails occasionally impacting the soft skin of your inner thigh, making you gasp.

He pulls your legs apart so he’s standing between them, his dick now hot against your underwear. His trailing hand moves up and you grind down onto the heel of his hand as he pushes up; your head twitches back, leaving your neck vulnerable to his teeth. You don’t care about marks, you don’t care about hickeys, you just want him to keep going. The hand at your waist pulls down your underwear until it drops around your shoes, Noel’s hand and dick now making contact with your bare pussy. One finger skates across your slit, teasing you, collecting the slippery wetness there, slowly parting your lips and you whine as he rolls your clit once and stops, then repeats the motion. Your walls are clenching for him to enter you already and he’s barely started. He lets out a laugh.

“So impatient,” he says, as he plunges his thumb into you, his other hand groping your ass. He twists inside you, directly onto your g-spot, your head falls forward, onto his shoulder, making random vowel noises, his mouth still abusing your neck. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he hisses into your skin. He switches, so his thumb is massaging your clit, and two of his fingers are curling and moving, stimulating your g-spot. Your hips are straining against his, and your dress is riding up higher, his dick bumping against your stomach. Reaching down, your hand grips the head, twisting in time with his motion.

Suddenly, he removes his fingers and half drags you to his living room. Your underwear is lying somewhere in the hall and he guides you up against the arm rest of the couch, until your thighs are pressing into it. Standing, your dress bunched up at your waist, you can do nothing but wait as he silently moves to the other side of the couch, turns on the lamp there, before coming to kneel at your side and pull your high heel off, then the other. He stands up, chest against your back, your bare ass pressed against his hastily pulled up jeans. You keep your gaze forward and feel a soft brush as his fingers land at your waist, and slowly you feel cool air brush more and more bare, hot skin. He drops your dress on the couch in front of you. Then, he ghosts over your nipples, apparent under the lace of your bra, and you inhale sharply, hoping for more.

Suddenly you’re face down on the couch, hips resting on the armrest, while your legs struggle to stay upright, your knees buckling a little. He’s still standing behind you, not touching you. You hear the soft sound and clink of his clothes and belt being tossed to the floor. His hands grip your waist, one grazing up your back, down the side of your body all the way to your hip. The warmth there leaves and you hold your breath, trying desperately not to beg for more. His palm reappears on the inside of your thigh, widening your stance. He moves it up, frustratingly slow, until the side of his hand is touching where you want it most.

A kiss lands on your ass, the hand at your waist has shifted to the other cheek, groping it. You whine needily when he bites down, and each time he does it again, a little lower, and a little lower again. Finally, a finger parts your lips and touches your clit and he’s sucking at the tender skin of your inner thigh, so close to your centre that you can feel his lips brush against it. Your clit is so sensitive that every achingly steady and soft touch feels like edging. Your lungs are burning until you remember to breathe, which is exactly when Noel’s tongue replaces his fingers.

“Please, please, pleasepleaseplease,” you whimper, both his hands are on your ass, pulling you apart so he can lick your clit. His tongue is swiping broad, wet strokes across you, lips and breath hot against your slit. “Noel please please,” you’re finally begging, trying to hold still, but helplessly pushing back, trying to get him deeper and closer and more. You’re biting down onto your hands, the cushions, the sounds escaping you getting louder and louder.

Your body is drawn tight and you feel the heat in your belly work its way around your limbs, your chest, and your throat. You’re so close you could choke, so focused on the burning fire where Noel’s mouth is moving that the sudden pressure on your g-spot from one of Noel’s fingers at the same time as a hard push on your clit punches a noise out of you. He doesn’t let up: increasing the speed of his tongue and force of his fingers, he relentlessly drags out your orgasm, until the tremble of your legs becomes a shake and your mind is an abrupt, complete blank, only a series of broken moans left in your grasp.

His mouth leaves you and you’re trying to catch your breath when you feel his cock at your entrance, still winding down from climax.

“Y/N- can I?” He says quickly, desperate. You nod against the soft fabric of the couch, hands eagerly propping you up, and plant your tired legs back down, and he thrusts forward. The impact is immediate. Your head drops forward, forearms supporting your chest and he pulls out, before pushing back in with a snap of his hips. You jolt forward and he grabs your hips harder, holding you in place as he backs out again. Every time, your back arches more and more, tiptoeing, ass definitely bruising as it meets his hips. He fucks into you harder and harder, slamming into your g-spot. There’s a dip in his angle and you can feel yourself squeezing around him like a vice, pulling him into you, and driving you wild. You’re holding onto any hold you can find to meet him, bouncing back and forward as much as he thrusts in and out.

He’s swearing, deep voice rough. “Fuck. Fuck. Holy fuck you feel so good.” He speeds up, pace so frenetic the couch lurches forward and he falls, now bent over, pressed against your back. One of his hands reaches to pull on your nipple harshly, your fingers are frantically moving between your legs, and another wave of orgasm wrenches out of you. Your back seizes, walls spasming around him, you’re somehow still conscious enough to hold onto him behind you, the lean muscle of his arm like steel cords as he chases his climax. Both of you are covered in sweat, gliding over each other’s skin. Moaning your name, he gives one, hardest stroke, slamming against your ass and stays buried there, hilt-deep for a few seconds, before giving a last couple, long, slow rolls of his hips and pulling out.

You collapse your weight onto the couch, too tired to move. He walks up to your side and turns you on your back, the comforting warmth of his body lying against your side, facing you. Your eyes meet again. Both of you are breathless and give voiceless laughs, realising how exhausted you are. You roll over to be chest to chest and feel wetness between your thighs. You glance down and blush, laughing a little, realising the sensation is a combination of you and him. He follows your gaze, gathers some of the liquid on two fingers and holds them between you, looking at your mouth with hooded eyes, his bottom lip wet by his tongue.

Closing the distance between you two, you kiss him, his wet fingers marking your neck. He tastes like you, and his facial hair is singeing the now-sensitive skin on your face. You break away.

“Ok, but do you have a tissue.” He laughs.

“Yeah, my bad.”


End file.
